Deceptions
by Krillia
Summary: Envy stalks his prey under the dark of night, seeking the proper time to reveal his existance and tear his target apart from the soul out. Spoilers for end of seriesmovie. Movie only for existence of Heiderich.


Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist is copyright Arakawa Hiromu, Square Enix, Studio Bones and, in America, Funimation. No infringement or disrespect is intended by this non-profit work of fan fiction. This is a work of noncommercial amateur fan fiction; it is not published for profit or material gain. The author and the posters have no intent to infringe any intellectual property rights held by the owners of existing copyrights in Fullmetal Alchemist or its derivative works. The author retains copyright to this work.

**Deceptions**

The last, dusty page of the book was turned, and Envy turned his eyes to the window above his head, wondering if the moment of his freedom was yet at hand. As always, as the time grew closer, he was restless for a longer line of sight, and the world where others milled about and existed.

He had always been alone, but that solitude had been tempered by his ability to hunt and track his desires. His obsessions and his need to pursue quarry had always been the things to keep him company. If not those, or when they were thwarted by the woman he no longer allowed himself to call Mother, then he was in the company of her or the other homunculi. They were not good company, but they were acceptable at least in that they understood what he was. His motivations, they might not understand, and his methods were considered less than desirable to a few of them, but they knew him for what he was. He could pursue prey with them at his back, and never worry about them trying to destroy him as punishment for what he had destroyed.

Now, instead of pursuing, he chased after knowledge and connection with the culture of his new world. Across the Gate, art was something pathetic and strange and a thing that humans used in vain attempts to create something and pretend that they were important.

Here, art was as close as he would ever get to the secrets that sustained his existence. Here, the rules that governed his world were silly dreams and, as it was on the Other side, only the artists were stupid enough to dream of such inanity. He read, veraciously, in an attempt to hold onto his own mind.

In centuries, he had never gained so much knowledge as he did in the three years following his incarceration. He read, and learned, and waited with restless patience for the right moment to pursue both his freedom and his prey.

The moon filtered through the slots that were the windows of the room, the only one large enough to hold him, and the slivers of light seemed almost tangible in their brightness. Slowly, heaving a sigh that seemed physically impossible to his shape, Envy shifted.

He didn't choose the body that had served him so well, across the Gate. It was part of his past life, and Envy had abandoned it soon after he had arrived. He had no revenge waiting for him, not as he had hoped. It should have been easy, to find That Man and destroy him.

But the source of his anger had disappeared, a very human trait, one which Envy no longer had the privilege of having. With Hohenheim's disappearance, the homunculus kept only two shapes, hoping that his familiarity with them both would allow him more time, more strength. The first was the dragon. It suited him, suited his purposed and was an acceptable shape to keep away those who might get too close, who might desire to do him harm before he was able to act upon his desires.

The second was more complicated, and Envy had fought a battle with himself before choosing it as his shape. Smaller, and more childlike than most he was used to adopting, it had taken him a long time to become accustomed to the body. For a time, it was as though the shape was trying to rebel against him; almost as if it objected to his use of it. He had never quite seen the living one, either, although a series of events and educated guesses left him feeling certain that the body was right. That the shapes and colors of the body were near perfect, if not completely.

Pushing the door open, Envy stood in the open air for a few minutes, looking up at the sky and the full moon. He only came out during the full moon. It was his, rule, created to keep his existence for just that much longer. It was also his rule because he had become obsessed with the myths that surrounded it. Both worlds had those that worshipped the moon, the vigilant watcher who saw all the crimes of man and beast. It comforted him, to be bathed in the blue and green glow, and to see the fear in the eyes of those who realized that he wasn't quite human. Those who Realized, when he passed them, his eyes and hair bathed in the light, who saw past the gold and unnatural violet turned to lavender and cream by the light. Those who looked too long, he would stare at with a level gaze until they flinched, hurrying home with no doubt in that they had just seen a demon. Those who continued to watch, found themselves thoughtless after meeting the inarguable demon. Most of those he passed barely spared him a second glance, passing by on their own errands in the night.

Envy walked slowly, smelling the air, watching the people. As rank and horrible as the city was, it was not the castle that was both his prison and his sanctuary. Another prison, as this entire world was, but not the one where he rested his head. He knew the edges of the city as well as he knew the walls of the castle, but at least the inside of the slightly larger prison changed. Births and deaths, or the creation and destruction of the multitude of buildings which stood as companions to the streets where life and death both walked. The city itself throbbed with the patterns of existence.

It took Envy some time to reach the building that was his target. It had been his target each month for dozens of explorations, now. Perhaps as long as year's worth. It didn't make much sense for him to contemplate time in his current situation. However long it had been, Envy knew the steps by heart, each door and each cracked stone etched into his memory as he treaded his way back to the doorway where he stood each month, before going to search out the man whose violent and slow death he wanted so desperately.

The first time he chose the form he now wore as an ill-fitting skin, Envy had to admit he himself had been shocked. It had been spontaneous, completely. He had been standing outside of the building he was now in front of. Only watching, only waiting. He had done so often, his patience increased by the hours of waiting in the dark for something that he was trying so hard to pursue, despite its constant evasion and denial of him. The best way to deal with the frustration, he had learned, was to simply lie about its existence. He was waiting for the best moment for his revenge, was all. There was nothing that was in his way. Nothing that might possibly be fear. 

After all, they didn't know he had actually made it through the Gate, didn't know that he had so easily defeated the freakish things that tried to guard the Secret, and made it beyond into this ridiculously complicated world that he ultimately realized that he never could have conceived of. After all, he was born from the other word, the other side of the Gate. He was a true outsider in this world. He was amused, bemused, angered and utterly baffled by that. It was far easier being a crime against nature than a bad dream. Across the Gate, his third greatest desire was to be the worst nightmare of the short blond whose very existence was a mockery of Envy's own. Here, he fought to be acknowledged.

Too many men had wandered upon him. The words "you can't be real" echoing in the air as they fell to the ground, the undeniable evidence that they had met a demon fading with their vision. There were some crimes that could not be forgiven, and Envy would not forgive someone who was enough of a fool not to see what was in front of their eyes. The idiots who thought perhaps they had started to dream even as they walked.

It took him only a short moment to reach the Window. To perch easily outside it, the strength and flexibility granted to him by his very creation allowing him to take the precarious stance. An eagle's eye, and he was watching. Waiting. Wondering if fate would grant him his revenge this night, at least. If the moon would allow him relief this night, as it had denied it to him in the past.

The inside was lit only dimly, the attempts to conserve energy, even in the chill of the brisk fall, obvious. Indicating that the pathetic creature inside was still attempting to deny his utter normalcy; still trying to pretend that he could exist outside the conventions of this world, as he had where he was born. Ed had failed there, and he was failing here.

The only difference was that Ed was useless in this world, not even useful enough to be a tool.

The last gave Envy some joy, as he watched the object of his hatred walk slowly across the floor, not noticing the piercing eyes that watched him from the shadows, incongruous in the face that surrounded them.

Under Envy's burning gaze, unnoticing of the unexpected malice, the shrimp, the son of the father, sat next to the boy who he had adopted as replacement for the lost brother. The pathetic replacement that didn't match, and was already fading from existence. A poor understudy for the brother Ed had so foolishly loved.

Envy growled, once again denied the pleasure of his carefully planned revenge on the second object of his hatred.

Someday the replacement would be gone. Either from this world or simply the room. Revenge would be simple, then. The pale illusion of the brother was a dark obstacle to Envy's revenge, an easy reminder to Ed that falsities and delusions were easily born from solitude.

It was strange. He had thought of a thousand painful deaths and tortures that could be used against the child, before coming to this world, and at least as many since then. Yet, in the end, the shape Envy chose would not help him fulfill any of those dreams. The one that he chose was, without a doubt, a torture and, at the same time, it could have been a gift.

Would the shrimp notice? What name would fall from his lips, as he stood, shocked at the image before him. Would the name be Envy, or maybe a simple, growled "you", as it had been during so many of their fights?

Or perhaps Ed allow himself the deception, purposefully not seeing through it for the same reason that Envy used it. Perhaps he would he see a brother, a friend, and a reason for continued existence. In his loneliness, would he accept the brutal lie that Envy wanted to force upon him? 

Would the name be Envy, his enemy and the source of so much of his hatred and pain?

Or would he chose the illusion over reality. The name could just as easily fall from his lips, accidentally or purposefully. It was easier for him to say, certainly. One syllable and he had screamed it often enough in the past, voice high with terror for the half-lifed thing that had always walked beside him.

Pushing slightly shaggy blond bangs away from grey eyes, Envy tilted his head to look at the one that Ed had decided to use as a substitute for his brother. He had learned, from an old lady on the street who had inquired as to his relation to the two boys, that this world's version was also known as Alphonse. It must have hurt Ed to learn that fact.

Despite that, there was too much different about that one, and he was dying besides. For Ed, Envy knew that he would be the better illusion. Even if it killed Ed, there would be a brief moment when illusion and reality would combine and they could be brothers, in hatred and in solitude. For a few brief moment before Envy stole the shrimp's soul, and ripped apart his sanity, they would be Brothers. They could deny the world. Deny their existence and accept that, maybe, they were what was left of the world that had rejected them as both the sinners and the sins.

END


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